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and just waltzing through them. It didn’t take the wisdom of Solomon to see that he had great natural ability. Even at nine he had a body swerve and natural check that would take the other man the wrong way.’ Inevitably, with Bobby as the captain, his school team was triumphant, winning the East Northumberland Junior Schools League Championship in 1949. In one match, Bobby’s dominance had ensured that his side was leading 12–0 at half-time, and Norman McGuinness was forced to tell him, ‘I want no more goals. You’re humiliating the other side and that’s bad sport.’ It is a reflection of the austerity of post-war Britain that Bobby’s team played in shorts fashioned from old blackout curtains by one of the teachers.

      Bobby was not just much more successful than Jack on the soccer field. He also outshone him academically, as Jack later admitted: Tm afraid I was a bit of a non-starter. I just wasn’t interested in subjects like English and maths. Robert was different. Not for him the wayward glances to what was happening outside the classroom. He was attentive and bright. And his handwriting was the envy of the whole class.’

      In view of this testimony from Jack, he can hardly have been shocked when he failed his 11-plus and had to go to Hirst Park Secondary Modern School, while his younger brother won a scholarship to grammar school. But some of their contemporaries do not remember Bobby being as clever as Jack has claimed. In fact, Bobby, like Jack, initially failed his 11-plus, and only won a grammar school place after taking a second test, known as the ‘review’. Alan Lavelle says: ‘There were a lot in our class who were brighter than Bobby. To be honest, I was a bit surprised when Bobby got into grammar – I did not think he was that good a scholar.’ Bobby himself has said that he was not the academic type. ‘I neglected my lessons and found it difficult to do my homework because my mind was always on football. I was so totally convinced I would be a footballer that I could not concentrate on anything else. But I regret not working harder. I wish I had studied my English and maths, so today I would be able to explain myself better.’

      Nevertheless, for all such weaknesses, Bobby was proud to have gained his scholarship to Morpeth Grammar School. But then a complication arose. His family discovered Morpeth did not play soccer, preferring the socially superior game of rugby. Understandably, Bobby was distraught. The headmaster of Hirst Primary, James Hamilton, also thought it would be a ‘tragic waste’ to send Bobby to ‘one of those snooty places that did not like football’ – to use his phrase. So Hamilton, backed up by the formidable figure of Cissie Charlton, approached Northumberland County Council and explained the exceptional circumstances of Bobby’s case. With a foresight not always shown by municipal bureaucrats, the education committee agreed that Bobby could be transferred to Bedlington Grammar, south of Ashington, a school which played football.

      Bobby began at Bedlington in the autumn of 1949. Evan Martin, another Bedlington pupil, recalls that Bobby was eagerly awaited at the school. ‘When he arrived we were already expecting him because of his local reputation. Everyone wanted him in their house so he could play for their house team. And then this kid comes in, with small, thin legs, looking anything but a footballer. But he soon showed that he could play. Even when he was 12, he was picked for teams of 18 year olds. He was that good, with wonderful silky skills. Bobby would get the ball with a man on him – he was always very heavily marked – and with his first touch he had beaten him. I never saw him head the ball much. If he got a high ball, he would chest it down. If he hit the ball anywhere around the penalty area, the keeper had no chance. He was even good in goal. Once, in a house match, the regular keeper was injured so Bobby went in and was fabulous. You could see he was gifted at all sports, whether it be snooker or cricket. As a batsman he would get into line and had all the shots. I once said to him, “Bobby, you could have been a good cricketer.” He replied, “Ah, that stuff wasn’t for me.”’

      Evan Martin, who was close to Bobby, has other memories of him as a grammar school pupil: ‘He was very unassuming, a smashing lad really. He never, ever boasted, even when he was picked for England Schoolboys. He was reasonably bright, though, like me, he was not brilliant at mathematics or science. He was quiet, deep, never really let on what he was really thinking, though he was a good mixer and had a lovely sense of humour. There was a group of about five of us, led by a lad called Tucker Robinson, who was a character with greased back hair, like Henry Winkler as the Fonz. Bobby was a colliery lad first and foremost, and if there were any tricks going, he would be there. We used to go to the pictures a lot in Ashington, and I remember one night, after we had been to see The Jolson Story, he sang songs from the film all the way from the cinema to the bus stop. Bobby loved the music of people like Frank Sinatra and Nat King Cole.’

      Evan Martin says that Bobby was neither especially good looking or popular with girls when he was at Bedlington. ‘He was short and he had this problem with his hair, a double crown at the back which would stick up and he was always trying to plaster it down. But when he was 14, he did go out with a lovely girl called Norma Outhwaite. She and Bobby were beautifully suited because they had the same temperaments: nice, straightforward, easy to get on with.’

      Among the boys of Bedlington, according to Martin, ‘There was a mystique about Bobby, because of his football. Everyone knew he was going to be a top professional, playing for England.’ But this admiration was not shared by elements within the school establishment, which prided itself on academic attainment and frowned on the idea of a young lad thinking only of football as a professional career. Cissie Charlton wrote that this conflict between Bobby’s interests and the school’s ‘meant that those days at Bedlington Grammar were not very happy ones’. The school’s attitude was illustrated by two incidents which happened to Bobby. The first occurred during a lesson in the physics laboratory, which looked out on to the playing fields. Sitting on a bench by the window, Bobby was distracted by the sight of some boys having a football practice. Suddenly the teacher, Tommy Simmons, rounded on him: ‘Charlton, you’d be wise to pay more attention to the blackboard than to the games outside. This is where your future lies, in your schoolwork. You’ll never make a living as a footballer.’

      The second arose when Bobby had been picked to play for England Schoolboys. Amazingly, the headmaster, Mr James, refused him permission to travel down to Wembley for the game. ‘You’re a scholar, first and foremost,’ he said. The sports master, George Benson, was more understanding. Without the head’s knowledge, he sneaked Bobby out of the school and drove him to Newcastle station for the rail trip to London.

      George Benson was not the only Bedlington teacher to admire Bobby. Another was Tom Hedderley, the French master who was also involved with sport. Now in his eighties and living in Newcastle, he gave me his recollection of teaching Bobby: ‘I will never forget my first sight of him. It was during a games lesson and, because it had been raining heavily, the football pitch was wet. We used heavy leather balls in those days, which were not waterproof. One of the balls came rolling out to this little kid, who was not the size of two penny-worth of copper. And he just smacked it. I can still see it, rising all the way from the edge of 18-yard area, thudding against the bar and then bouncing back halfway up the pitch,’ Tom Hedderley remembers one match, the final of the local Blake Cup, when Bobby’s tremendous local reputation worked against him. ‘We were playing Blyth and it was a needle match. Blyth had worked out that their only hope of winning was to stifle Bobby – and they succeeded, winning 1–0. In desperation, our lads kept giving the ball to Bobby to see what he could do. But every time he got it, there were about six Blyth boys straight on to him. It was just impossible for him to get through.’

      Hedderley continues: ‘Bobby was naturally tremendously popular in school, but he never played on it, never became swell-headed. As in his later career, he was very gentlemanly on the football field. Everyone respected him, not only because he was a damn good footballer but also because of his nice nature. He was not an outstanding pupil, but he was in the upper stream for most of his time with us. In my subject French, for instance, he got by without showing any signs of being a linguist.’ Hedderley disputes the view that Bobby was especially withdrawn. ‘Yes, he did not like being thrust forward, but he was not reticent. I would have actually called him happy-go-lucky. He worked steadily, though it always seemed that his mind was on football. We talked about him a lot in the staffroom because we knew he was going to be someone special.’ Like others, Tom Hedderley saw the graphic contrast in Bobby’s parents. ‘His dad was a really nice fella.

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